Aftermath
by Tipper
Summary: Description: Tag for the Defiant One, picking up at the same point where the actual episode endsi.e. HUGE spoilers. What if Brendan Gall was right? What if people really would talk…?
1. Default Chapter

Title: Aftermath (Tag for "The Defiant One")  
Author: Tipper  
Disclaimer: Own nothing, not making any money, and never plan to. MGM, Gekko, and the brilliant writers, cast and directors made this whole thing up. I'm just feeding my addiction.  
Parts: 10  
Characters: Sheppard, McKay, Weir, Ford, Teyla and all the supporting cast all play a role.

(Originally posted January, 2005. Repost April 30, 2005--just learned that the jumper didn'thave a shield on its own. So, retooled the beginning a little).

**BIG HUGE SPOILER FOR "THE DEFIANT ONE." Don't read this if you haven't seen the episode, because it gives a MASSIVE plot point away. So, wait, watch the episode, then read it, if you still want too.:) **

A/N: This was inspired by a desperate need to finish The Defiant One, which felt really incomplete to me, and to respond to something I saw in the Forums on Gateworld—people mocking Weir for bringing up the Geneva Convention. Demonstrates that those folks do not understand what the Geneva Convention is intended to do, or how important it is to maintain, antiquated or no….

A/N 2: Oh, also inspired by Bastet's great "War of Wills" – she got me thinking about law out on the frontier.

Description: Tag for the Defiant One, picking up at the same point where the actual episode ends. What if Brendan Gall was right? What if people really would talk…?

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**CHAPTER ONE: PUTTING THE SHIP BACK TOGETHER**

"You have to put the ship back together," Sheppard said, lifting his hands to encompass the jumper, taking a breath before adding, "provided," he gave a small smile, "you can disarm the shield."

Rodney looked at the gun in his hand, distracted by it. "Fine," he agreed disinterestedly, looking up again, "as long as we can go home."

Sheppard nodded, even chuckled a little, watching as Rodney holstered the gun away.

"And you can drive," he said, trying to install a small amount of cheer.

Gamely, the scientist gave a weak smile back. "Oh," he replied, "thank you."

Sheppard put a hand out then, lightly touching the scientist's arm, stopping McKay at a certain spot.

"It's about here," he said, lifting his hands again to demonstrate the invisible wall, but without actually touching anything.

Rodney sighed, looking up at the puddle jumper a few feet in front of him. With conscious effort, he forced his mind to divorce itself from everything that had occurred in the last 15 hours. He slipped into his role of analyst and scientist, and left behind the one who boasted of "field work" and wanted to hot rod in a puddle jumper.

With a surprisingly steady hand, he touched the edge of the shield protecting the ship. A hundred pricks of electricity shocked his fingers, and he drew it back quickly.

Sheppard was looking around generally at the landscape, exhaustion creeping into his face now that the primary danger had gone. But despite the weariness that seemed to have compounded on his thin frame in that last couple of minutes, his eyes were still scouting…just in case. A thought came to him then, remembering that help was close at hand.

"Ford," the major called over his radio, "if you see any more life signs as strong as mine or Rodney's emanating from anywhere, particularly that downed ship, you tell me immediately."

"Yes sir," came the response. Then, a moment later, "Only you and McKay, sir? Shouldn't there be two other—"

"No, lieutenant. Only two."

A pause, then, more subdued, "Yes sir."

Rodney had stiffened slightly at the conversation going on next to him, trying not to listen more than his proximity forced him to. As Sheppard cut off his communication with Ford, McKay pulled out the remote for the jumper, testing a few keyed commands before giving up and pulling out his scanner. It didn't take him long to figure out what the Wraith had done. The creature had used its own technology to turn the ship's cloak into a shield, clever really, and then had hidden it inside another subroutine, to prevent anyone else from easily finding it and overriding the change. All he really had to do was shut down a few things, which would unveil the cloak controls, then use his own command codes to lower it.

Sheppard sighed, as McKay keyed a few things into the scanner, downloaded them into the remote, then lifted the remote and hit three buttons.

The shield evaporated with a slight flash.

Sheppard whirled around, staring wide-eyed at the jumper, his jaw dropping open.

"Are you kidding me?"

"What?" came Rodney's tired response as he started walking up the ramp.

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me!" the major waved a hand around, as if still expecting a shield to be there, then took a couple steps after the scientist. Rodney stopped, and was watching him with a very still expression.

"What's the matter?" he said quietly.

"It was that easy? It took you, what, half a second to shut it down?" Sheppard's fist whammed the side of the ship…prompting him to shake it a second later because that had _hurt_ damn it…."My God! If you had just come an hour ago, when I was trying to…." He sighed, covering his hand over his eyes, "Don't think about it," he suddenly muttered, obviously talking to himself. "What's done is done. Everything's okay now."

Had he been watching the scientist, he would have seen a shudder roll through McKay, before it was hidden once more behind a stone faced façade. Without saying a word, either in apology or in his defense, McKay turned and walked deeper into the shadows.

Sheppard lowered his hand, looked up at the cloudless blue sky overhead, and blew the air out of his cheeks. He was a little calmer now.

Looking into the ship, he saw McKay was already peering into the motherboard, eyes scoping out the damage the Wraith had done. The scientist sighed.

"Besides adding a shield, it looks like the Wraith was working on keying the weapons into Dr. Gaul's remote as well--though he wouldn't have been successful, of course," McKay's voice was oddly soft. "The gene is required for those as well. But…yes…he had started to reconfigure the radio. You're right," shadowed eyes glance at Sheppard, "he probably would have figured out how to call for help if you hadn't stopped him."

Sheppard slumped against the opening of the puddle jumper, staring out at the desert. "Yeah."

He listened as McKay started sliding out the crystals from the matrix, and tiny beeps emitted from the delicate controls.

Sheppard suddenly realized he was really, really tired.

"Can you put the shield back up?" he asked quietly.

McKay looked at the major, saw the man's overwhelming tiredness, then looked vaguely out the back of the jumper.

The shield came back up with another flash of light.

Sheppard looked back at McKay, saw him returning his gaze to the matrix.

"You didn't use the remote," the major said, the statement more a question than anything.

"No," McKay slid another crystal out to examine. "Inside the ship, we don't need the remote."

"Oh," Sheppard nodded, "right. Forgot that." He tipped his head back against the edge of the ship, eyes losing focus as the desert landscape started to blur. "Has it always had a shield?"

"No," McKay was pulling out another crystal matrix, "It's Wraith technology. We'll need to retrieve the Wraith's armband to get rid of it permanently. Right now, this jumper doesn't have a cloak because of it."

"That's not good," Sheppard noted, his words beginning to slur. "Though...be kinda nice. If we're being shot at. Maybe we could swap back and forth?"

"Maybe."

"You'll figure out a way."

Rodney didn't answer, focused instead on trying to readjust the jumper's power systems.

John sighed, grimacing a little as his ribs protested. After a moment, he closed his eyes, listening to the soft sounds of Rodney working behind him. He was just closing them for a moment. Just for a moment.

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**CHAPTER TWO: FAILING TO UNDERSTAND**

He awoke to voices, lots of voices. He heard McKay answering Ford's questions in a tired monotone.

"…I am aware of that yes."

"How did it happen?" There was a harshness to the lieutenant's question, and Sheppard frowned. It almost sounded like Ford was angry about something.

There was a pause, then, McKay spoke softly, "He made a decision. He didn't consult me."

The major grimaced, blinking up at the roof of the puddle jumper over his head. He was on his back on the floor of the jumper, and there was a scent of antiseptic on the air. Tilting his head, he glanced at his left arm, to see the neat bandage there.

"And you didn't think to stop him, Doctor McKay?" There was no question now, Ford was angry. It was also clear he was accusing Rodney of something.

"Ford," Sheppard hissed, then coughed.

He heard two sets of feet shift in surprise, then, barely a second later, his second in command was kneeling next to him, smiling.

"Hey, Major," Ford grinned, "It's good to see your eyes open. Was wondering if you'd wake up before we got home or not."

Sheppard just stared at him, then past him to where Rodney had stepped into his eyesight.

He looked…wrong.

Still not clear as to why, the major looked back at Ford, "What's the matter?"

Ford's smile fell, then he shook his head, smiling again, but it no longer appeared genuine. "Nothing for you to worry about now, sir. I was just trying to understand what exactly happened here."

Sheppard frowned, "What happened here? What's there to understand?"

"Well," Ford shifted uncomfortably, then shrugged, "There are…some things that don't add up, sir."

"Don't add up? What's there to tell?" Sheppard shook his head, "A Wraith channeling Jason's ugly cousin managed to survive 10,000 years and beat the crap out of us, killed Abrams and Gall, and nearly succeeded in delivering up me and McKay until you hit him with fireball. What else _is_ there to tell?" Sheppard frowned, looking up again at Rodney, still trying to understand what was wrong with this picture, "McKay, what exactly have you been telling him?"

Rodney's face showed no reaction at all to the question. And Sheppard finally realized that _that_ was what was wrong. McKay had one of those faces that showed everything he was feeling—but right now it was completely still.

"McKay? What…Ow!" Sheppard had tried to push up on his arms, only to grunt in pain as he forgot that his left arm had a bullet hole in it. Ford pressed him back down, and patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry about a thing, sir. We're going home now. McKay's going to follow Markham back to Atlantis in the other jumper and, and then Dr. Beckett will…."

"What? No. I'm not leaving him," Sheppard announced, his voice already getting stronger. "If he's driving, I'm staying with him."

"Sir," Ford frowned, "I don't think that's—"

"You and Teyla come with us, if you like. But I'm not letting him fly alone."

Ford stared at him for a moment, then grimaced, "Yes, sir."

Sheppard looked past him to McKay again, "You fix my ship yet?"

"Yes," Rodney replied.

The major stared at him, waiting for more. Always there was an explanation, or a self-congratulation, or at least another Captain Kirk crack. When it didn't come, clangors went off in his mind. He pushed himself up on his right arm only this time, ignoring the tightness in his ribs, never taking his eyes off McKay. Ford frowned, but McKay's only response was a slight tightening around the edges of his eyes. Sheppard's eyes squinted, examining every inch of the scientist's face.

"All right, what's wrong with you," he hissed, glaring at McKay. "What's the matter?"

Rodney lowered his head then looked off to the right. Sheppard sat the rest of the way up, Ford helping him the last part of the way. Panting a little, he refused to blink as he glared at the scientist.

"McKay, I asked you a question."

"I am going to make sure the others have got the bodies properly stowed," Rodney said suddenly, still not in his normal voice, and still staring off to the side. "I'll be back in a few minutes." And he walked away, completely ignoring the look of bewilderment on the Major's face.

Sheppard looked at Ford, "What the hell was that? What's wrong with him?" Ford opened his mouth to answer, but the major wasn't done yet, and he held up a finger at the younger man, "If you're accusing him of something, you had better know first that I made stay with Gall while I tackled the Wraith alone. It was my decision, not his."

Ford shook his head, "No sir, that's not it."

"Not it? What's not it?"

Ford looked down, as if unable to meet Sheppard's eyes, then out towards the end of the jumper to the sun shining down outside.

"We executed a quick retrieval operation inside the downed Wraith ship, to retrieve the bodies of Dr. Abrams and Dr. Gall." He shifted a little, then stared back at Sheppard, his eyes very dark, "Dr. Gall had a bullet in his brain, Major. Either he killed himself or…." He shook his head.

The Major stopped breathing for a second, then let out a breath slowly. Gall killed himself. In front of McKay. Oh Lord.

Wait a minute. Did Ford just imply….?

He stared hard at the younger man, "Ford, did you just say _'or_?' Or what, lieutenant?"

"I'm sorry sir, it just seemed odd, that's all. I didn't know Doctor Gall well, but he really didn't seem the kind to….And why did he have a gun in his hand, sir? If he was suicidal, why did McKay let him—"

"I told him to, lieutenant," Sheppard answered sharply. "I told him to put the gun in Gall's hand, so they could both protect each other."

"Oh," Ford frowned, then frowned more deeply. "Still, sir, I—"

"No," Sheppard shook his head, "whatever you're thinking, you're wrong. If Gall has a bullet in his brain, then he put it there himself, and I guarantee McKay could not have stopped him from doing so."

Ford looked up, his eyes still not convinced, "Are you sure, sir? After all, we haven't known Doctor McKay long, and, when circumstances reach a certain level, people can be—"

"He saved my life, Ford."

The young man froze, then shook his head. "Well, I…I'm sure you think he did, sir, but—"

"No," Sheppard's tone was final, "Not another word, lieutenant. Let's just get home, okay?"

Ford's eyes narrowed, but he nodded, standing up. "Sir," he paused, "there will have to be an investigation sir. You know that."

Sheppard gritted his teeth, "We'll see."

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TBC


	2. Part Two

**AFTERMATH – PART TWO**

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CHAPTER THREE: VEHEMENCE

At some point, Sheppard fell asleep again. He didn't really know when, but it had to be soon after taking off, because the next thing he knew, he was blinking up at the ceiling of the jumper and the sun was streaking it…meaning they were back near the center of the solar system and not far from Atlantis.

As quietly as possible, he shifted up on his right arm again, taking in the three very quiet people with him. All three had their heads turned away from him, watching the tail of the jumper in front of them.

Teyla sat in her usual seat behind the co-pilot, and Ford sat in his normal seat as well. McKay sat in the pilot's seat. Oddly, he looked very relaxed at the controls, very different from the trip out to the satellite. Probably because he wasn't thinking so much about what he was doing as what he had left behind…and what was coming ahead.

Ford, the major could tell, was half watching McKay, pretending not to. There was a strange tension in the air, and it made Sheppard incredibly unhappy.

"Teyla," he called softly, his voice a croak.

Ford and Teyla both turned, but McKay only half glanced over his shoulder, before focusing once more on the ship leading them home. Ford smiled, but the major didn't smile back, he just nodded. Ford's smile fell, and he turned around again.

Teyla, meanwhile, grabbed a canteen propped by her chair and moved into the rear of the jumper. Sheppard asked her quietly to help him sit up, and soon he was lying against the back hatch, drinking from the canteen, and watching her as she deftly checked the bandage on his arm.

"What's been going on," he whispered, deliberately trying to keep the conversation from those in front.

"Very little," she replied, just as quietly. " I am afraid that Lieutenant Ford..." she trailed off, then sighed, "that the lieutenant is not entirely comfortable with Doctor McKay right now. He has not taken the news of Doctor Gall's suicide well." Her eyes looked questioning, "I understand that the idea of suicide is one that is very repugnant to your culture. You consider it both dishonorable and, from what I have gleaned, a sin under many of the belief systems of your world."

"Well," Sheppard shifted up a little more, a hand pressed on his ribs to keep them from moving as well, "in most of the religions on earth, yes. Many think suicide is a form of cowardice, of giving up." He shook his head.

"Do you?" she asked.

"In ninety-nine percent of cases, yes," he stated. "But there are always exceptions. There is one particularly horrible disease on our planet called Lou Gherig's disease…," he shook his head, "but, other than that…yes."

"I see," she looked away, "my people feel the same, although, to give your life so others may live…that is another matter. There is honor in that." She shook her head, "But the line is fine."

Sheppard nodded, wondering exactly what had happened back on that Wraith ship. Teyla was implying something, and he was curious what exactly she knew.

"To be honest," she said that as if it would be something new to her, "I thought your people felt the same way. When Doctor McKay walked into that energy being to save all of us, for example, even knowing it could kill him, he was praised."

Sheppard blinked at her, "What are you saying?"

"I do not know, exactly." She shook her head, "But I am afraid that, if an investigation occurs as the lieutenant and the other soldiers have said, that it may be forgotten that Doctor Gall had a reason for what he did…and it may not have been because he wanted to die."

She stared at Sheppard, and, after a moment, he nodded at her.

"On the other hand," she drew the canteen back from his hands and screwed the cap back on, "there is…also talk…that Doctor McKay may have had a role in Doctor Gall's death."

Sheppard frowned, "Talk?"

"Sergeant Markham and Corporal Johnson, in the other jumper, were discussing the possibility." She shook her head.

He watched her face, reading her eyes as she focused on him again.

"I do not believe they are correct to say such things. Doctor McKay would never harm anyone purposefully. With the exception of a life and death situation," she said, her eyes meeting his steadily, "I do not think he could, as I've heard you say, harm a fly."

It was delivered with her full conviction, the voice that said she was right and there was nothing short of an apocalypse that would prove her wrong.

Sheppard smiled.

"I agree," he said.

"I knew you would," she nodded. She settled next to him, looking forward to Ford and McKay again for a moment, before looking back at him. "When my people and I were suspected of being in contact with the Wraith, I was told, afterwards, how vehemently both you and Doctor McKay argued for us." She smiled a little at that before continuing, "I know Lieutenant Ford agreed with your assessment, but, apparently, it was you and Doctor McKay who were the most vocal in our…my…defense, even after we were attacked that last time." She smiled, "That is something I greatly appreciated." She looked forward, watching lieutenant Ford, "I do not, however, understand why Lieutenant Ford is now not as certain as I am about Doctor McKay, in this situation."

"Hm," Sheppard grunted, then sighed, rubbing a little at the tightness in his chest, "I'm afraid that's pretty easy to answer, Teyla. You exude honesty and strength. McKay…is more flawed. People just can't see him as strong, no matter how many times he may have come through for them, and consequently," he looked at Ford, "some wonder if…he might eventually crack."

She frowned at the assessment, then shook her head, "I do not. He has a tendency to panic, yes, but he overcomes it. And the attacks come fewer and fewer. Besides," she looked askance at the major, "I do not believe you would have picked him for our team if you truly thought him capable of, as you say, cracking."

Sheppard gave a half smile, "No," he stated firmly, "I wouldn't have."

That was enough for her. Then she shifted, reaching for something. When she came back, she was holding up a chocolate bar.

"Hungry?"

He grinned, "You read my mind."

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CHAPTER FOUR: HOMECOMING

When they arrived home, the major found himself suddenly swarmed by Beckett's medical team, checking his arm, inserting an IV into his other arm, talking to him like he was two years old. He finally yelled that he hadn't been hit on the head, just his arm, but the pain in his chest from the cracked ribs betrayed him when he tried to catch his breath again, and he was bustled off to the infirmary without further ado.

His only contact with Weir was her face, smiling down at him, telling him to get better. He tried to tell Beckett he needed to talk to her first, before Ford or anyone else did, but they had injected something into his IV and the next thing he knew….

He was lying in a quiet infirmary, with nothing but sleeping people around him. To his right, he saw Kavanagh, sleeping off a mishap with a volatile Ancient device that blew up in his face, and across the way he saw Stackhouse, with his leg elevated in a sling, a dark grimace on the sergeant's sleeping face.

The major's fingers gripped the fabric of the sheet covering him. What was happening out there? What were they saying…doing….what was Rodney telling them?

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn….

——————————————————————————

"Major?" Beckett's voice was quiet, but insistent. Sheppard frowned, but blinked his eyes open, trying to work through the dryness of them.

"Beckett?" he replied softly.

"Yes, Major. How're you feeling?" The doctor's smiling face basked the major; it was the face Beckett put on that promised that everything was fine.

He tried to breathe in deeply before answering, but pinpricks of pain shot across his chest and down his sides, and he knew he shouldn't have done that.

"Ow," he muttered.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," Beckett sighed. "But other than that?"

He took a more careful breath then, and decided that, in fact, he didn't hurt that much. His left arm felt pretty good—a little numb, but there. He could move his fingers. Otherwise, he was waking up more and more.

"Um," he looked around a little, "I think…not bad?"

Beckett smiled, "Good, good. Figured as much, but you never know. You lost a bit of blood, there, made you a bit wonky, but you've recovered it by now. Your arm's clear of infection and, other than the ribs, which shouldn't take too long to heal, I think you'll be fine fairly quickly." He smiled some more, "Just don't strain yourself too much."

"Mmmm," Sheppard reached over for the button, and raised the bed up so that he was sitting. Beckett stepped back, giving him some room. The major looked at him, opening his mouth to ask how long he would have to stay here, but Beckett was ahead of him.

"You can sleep in your own bed tonight, if that's your question, major. In fact, you're free to go, provided you promise to take it easy."

"Yes," Sheppard gave a crooked smile, "Thanks, Carson." He looked over at his arm, at the bandage, then frowned. There was something else bothering him, now, what…?

"Well, I've other patients. I'll have Doctor Jackson take you to your room whenever you want." Beckett patted his leg, turning to walk away, "Just say when."

Sheppard hissed, and Beckett looked back, thinking it was because he was in pain, but Sheppard's eyes were not on himself. They were staring into the distance. Suddenly, they focused back on the doctor.

"McKay," he asked. "What's happening with McKay?"

"McKay?" Beckett replied innocently. Oh, the man was an abysmal liar.

"Yes, Carson, McKay. You know, arrogant genius about 5 foot 10, brown hair, mean sense of humor and less patience than a teenager on prom night?"

"Oh, McKay," Beckett said the name as if it had taken the major's description to trigger the connection. "He's fine. Nothing wrong with him at all. Not even a bruise."

Sheppard's eyes narrowed. "Not what I meant, Carson," he said darkly.

Beckett looked around, as if for an excuse to flee, but the room was quiet. Finally he sighed.

"Okay, okay, but I don't want you getting all worked up, a'right?" He pursed his lips, then stepped back to the side of the bed so that he could lower his voice. "I'm afraid Rodney's…in a bit of a pickle."

"A pickle."

"I…suppose you know that Doctor Gall," Carson swallowed, "killed himself?"

"Yup."

"Well, not everyone thinks he did, or that he did it without help. I'm afraid a rumor has circulated that…Rodney might have somehow had a hand in the actual…" Carson trailed off, unable to finish the thought. He sighed heavily, lowering his eyes from the major's piercing once, "Look, as you know, Rodney does not exactly, shall we say, get along with people? And, when you couple that with ego, which many among the scientists have in great abundance, you discover that many here…don't like him." He frowned, not looking at Sheppard still, "And…Doctor Gall and Rodney…clashed a great deal. I think he…like several others…resented Rodney being in charge."

"That's an understatement," a morose voice muttered from Sheppard's right. Both Beckett and the major turned, to see Kavanagh peering out at them with one eye. He had a bandage down one side of his face, covering his other eye. The doctor looked tired, but alert.

"What's an understatement?" Sheppard asked, though he regretted it the moment he asked. Kavanagh hated McKay, and was probably the last opinion he wanted to hear. But curiosity had gotten the better of him.

"McKay is smart, sure," Kavanagh gave a nasty smile, "but he's no Sam Carter. He's just another scientist with a big mouth and a fragile ego. Scientists like Gall and me are a threat. We're probably smarter than Rodney, younger, better looking…." Kavanagh grinned mercilessly at Sheppard's thunderous expression at the statement, then coughed, closing his one eye for a moment, as his body reacted to the convulsive action. Beckett looked up at the monitors, watching to make sure nothing spiked, as Kavanagh got his breathing back under control. When the scientist peered out again, the nastiness was back, "Anyway," he shrugged, "it's not a hard stretch of the imagination to think that McKay may have had something to do with what—"

"That's enough!" Sheppard barked, sitting up straighter. "You have no idea what happened out there!"

Kavanagh looked amused, even beneath the bandage, "Oh? And you do?"

"Yes," the major hissed.

Kavanagh nodded, "Okay then. Guess we'll see how true that is soon, won't we?"

Sheppard frowned, "What does that mean?" Kavanagh didn't reply, he just continued to smile, so the major turned his gaze to Carson. The doctor had his arms crossed over his chest, his expression sad. "Carson? What is he talking about?"

Beckett looked up, meeting his gaze softly, "There's going to be a hearing."

Sheppard stared at him a minute, then threw back the covers off his legs, "The hell there is. Where's Weir?"

Beckett shrugged, "In her office, I presume."

"And McKay?"

Beckett pursed his lips, then lowered his eyes again. "I'll have someone take you to Doctor Weir," he stated quietly, before turning away again.

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TBC


	3. Part Three

**AFTERMATH -- PART THREE**

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CHAPTER FIVE: HOME RULE

"House arrest?" Sheppard crossed his arms, ignoring the twinge in his left. "What the hell does that mean?"

Elizabeth stood, turning to stare out the window of her office to the gate room below. "It means what you think it means, John." She paused, then lowered her head, "Rodney is confined to his quarters. He is allowed visitors, but other than that, he is to be kept apart from the rest of the City until the hearing."

"Hearing." It was muttered, and not nicely.

She took another breath, then turned to look at him, her chin lifted. "Yes, John, his hearing." Her jaw flexed, her eyes steeled, and the leader took over. "Listen to me, whether you want to accept it or not, a man killed himself on your mission, a man that many people here liked. Rodney was alone with Brendan, and, though you and I both know he could not possibly have had anything to do with it, a number of people have demanded a hearing. People here need to know what happened, John. They need to understand why. Look, you know as well as I that If we were on earth, regardless if that man was military or civilian, there would be an investigation. There is always an investigation in a suicide, even when the facts are spelled out too clearly to be denied. And we may be out on the frontier here, John, and I may be the only one here who is a lawyer, but we must uphold the law here as well."

"Even if it destroys a good man in the process?"

She shook her head, "I can't help what this is doing to Rodney, but perhaps this is best for him as well. He needs to face what happened."

"Bull. He may need to face it, but not like this. And, frankly, we're not on earth, Elizabeth. We're cut off, and there is nothing that says we have to follow every law while we're here. I don't see any need to hurt him like this."

"Not follow every law…." She sighed, looking down, her eyes closing for a moment. When she looked up again, there was something more in her eyes.

"Do you know why we have laws, John?"

The major sneered, "to keep lawyers employed?"

She was not amused. "Major."

He rolled his eyes, "Fine. To prevent crimes and punish the—"

"No," she cut him off harshly, "that may be one of its consequences, but that is not what it is for."

That startled him a little, and he frowned. "Okay, fine. Then what's it for?"

She straightened a little, "To protect us." Her eyes lightened a little as she continued, "Fundamentally, the law is designed to protect people who can't protect themselves—the innocent, the victims, the minorities, the…" she waved a hand about, "the defenseless. It protects our rights and our freedoms, our ability to be ourselves and take stands for what we believe in, even if others think its wrong or ugly or distasteful. It's there to protect those who would be vilified and criminalized for speaking their mind, or for being a certain stereotype, or for believing in a different god, or, in this case, simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It doesn't always work, but that is what is for. And in most democratic countries, that ethos is the same. It is well known that the strong can take care of themselves, but the weak need the law."

He just stared at her, his eyes narrowed slightly. "So?"

"So," her eyebrows lifted, "I happen to believe that bringing those ethics with us wherever we go is important. Not, not just important—vital. Now, I know you dismissed me when I brought up the Geneva Convention, but the convention wasn't meant to only work between those people who signed it. The United States, and many others, agreed to uphold the Geneva Convention, regardless of who is on the other side, because it represents the ideals that we strive for; what we hope to embody, no matter where we go or who we meet. I will not condone torture, or the use of biological weapons, or any other war crime unless there is no choice--unless it is the only means by which we may survive out here. The Wraith…are the strong, right now; they are the majority, the tyranny, and we are the weak. I understand that we must protect ourselves against them, by any means; I know that. But against the Genii," her eyes closed for a second, taking in a breath as the feel of Kolya's bruising grip around her waist tingled across her memory, then she opened them again, "especially against the Genii and any other race we may meet, we must abide by the principles and ethics and laws that millions have died for on earth to codify and make real. I will not just let that go the window because we are cut off or because we are afraid. I will not pick and choose amongst what laws feel right to follow this day and what don't. I will not dishonor the memory of those that died for our country, for the countries of everyone here, by acting as if the rule of law doesn't mean anything out here. Can you understand that?"

The major's eyes had lessened their squint, and he looked at her openly. Finally, he sighed, "So what are you telling me?"

"I'm telling you that I am going to maintain the law here. There is going to be a hearing. Not to be trite, but Rodney will have his day in court before his peers. And not just for him, but for all of Atlantis. Do you understand?"

Sheppard looked down, then shook his head, "I guess…maybe….but if it goes the wrong way…."

"It won't," she sat down again, leaning forward across the table. "It won't. I want this hearing to be about the truth. I will not let it be anything else."

Sheppard closed his eyes, took a breath, then stood up, swaying a little before getting his bearings. He looked up at her after a moment, ignoring the concerned look on her face, and grimaced.

"I can see him?"

"Of course."

"Thanks."

He turned to leave, stopping only when she spoke again.

"Remember, it's a hearing, John, not a trial."

He snorted, "right."

As he disappeared through her door, Elizabeth sighed deeply, rubbing a hand through her hair.

Please let this work, she pleaded silently.

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CHAPTER SIX: HOUSE ARREST

Sheppard glared at the marine standing next to Rodney's closed room, and the marine, for his part, kept his eyes down. Without saying a word, the major knocked hard on the metal door, bruising his knuckles a little at the force of the knock.

When no one answered, he knocked again, harder.

A shuffle, then a sharp, "Yes?" echoed through the door. It was McKay's don't-bother-me tone.

"It's me," Sheppard stated. "Let me in."

Another pause, then the door opened with a soft swish. The major glanced once more at the still silent marine, then stepped inside, letting the door close behind him.

McKay was sitting at a paper strewn desk on one side of the room,notepads and piles of loose legal and graph paper surrounding a laptop that looked small in comparison. Several crushed wads of paper were on the floor around his chair, along with what looked like an untouched tray of food. A couple of small looking Ancient devices that seemed to be acting as paperweights sat atop two of the piles, and Sheppard also spotted the now dead personal shield device precariously sitting on one corner, lookingclose to falling off the edge. The doctor himself was sitting a little slumped, one leg bent sideways on the chair, the other tucked beneath the desk. He was staring at the laptop, the fingers of his right hand resting on the mouse, his other hand resting loosely on his bent leg. He looked like he was reading something.

There was still no expression on his face. It was unnerving.

The sharp eyes looked askance over at Sheppard by the door, then returned to the screen.

"Should you be up?" he asked curtly.

"Beckett released me."

"Oh," McKay looked at him again, this time with a little more assessment, then arched an eyebrow. "You don't look well enough to be up. You're paler than usual." He looked back at the screen, "You should go get some sleep." The fingers of his right hand drifted across the mouse, and his thumbs clicked away at the buttons.

"I'm fine," Sheppard looked around at the somewhat messy room. A few clothes thrown over another chair, a pair of pale blue boxers thrown across the end of the bed, along with a somewhat ratty looking T-shirt with "Maple Leafs" emblazoned on it in faded letters, and several more small Ancient devices strewn about on various shelves in the room. His eyes also noticed unhappily that the other outside leading doorway in the room, the one leading to McKay's small lab, was sealed. That is to say, someone had placed a piece of what looked like duct tape across it. No one was foolish enough to think they could actually stop McKay from getting through that door if he really wanted to. It was symbolic, only. It didn't look like the scientist had made any attempt to remove it.

He sighed, moving to sit in the free chair, tossing the clothes there onto the bed. He didn't realize how tired he was until he actually sat, and part of him really wanted to close his eyes.

In fact…he did close his eyes.

"Major?"

Rodney's concerned voice caused him to frown, and his eyes blinked open. The scientist was crouching in front of him, one hand lightly touching his right arm. The doorway to the hall was open, and the marine was watching them, obviously not sure what to do.

Aw crap, Sheppard realized stupidly. I fell asleep.

"Major, are you all right?" McKay's face radiated worry, and the major nearly smiled. It was the first expression he'd seen on the man's face since the desert planet. But, instead of smiling, a slow drumbeat started up behind his right temple, and Sheppard unconsciously frowned.

"Yeah," he muttered as the drumbeat morphed into a pile-driver. "Got any water?"

McKay looked at the marine, and the man sprung into action, stepping around the two men and heading to the small bathroom off to one side. A moment later, he returned with a glass of water, which Sheppard took gratefully.

"He needs to be in his own room," McKay said, looking up at the marine. "Can you page someone to help him—"

"I'm fine!" Sheppard announced, his tone angry. "Just wore myself out a bit. I'll be fine in a moment." He took another sip of water, and rubbed at the spot on his head where the pile-driver was trying to break through his skull.

McKay grimaced, then looked at the marine again and mouthed "get someone" while the major was distracted. The marine nodded at the command and backed out of the room.

The door closed, and Rodney stood up, backing up and moving to sit back in his chair by the desk. Once settled, he stared at the major, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, and the expressionless mask returned to his face.

"He's going to get someone to help you get back to your room," McKay said unnecessarily.

The Major sighed, but shrugged. "Fine." Didn't mean he actually had to leave.

McKay looked down, then back up. "So…was there something you needed?" He indicated his room, to demonstrate his confinement, "There's not really much I can do right now."

John stared at him a moment, his brow slightly furrowed. "No, McKay, I don't need anything. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Me?" the scientist snorted, "I wasn't the one who was shot, Major. Or knocked on my ass by a Wraith several times. Or nearly blown up." He smiled then, just a tiny one, and he looked at the floor, "I just showed up at the end and didn't have the wherewithal to think about reloading my gun when I ran out of bullets."

Sheppard smiled a little at that as well, then let it fade as Rodney didn't lift his eyes from the floor, the smile on the scientist's face already long gone. The major sighed, wondering what exactly Rodney was seeing, because he was certain it wasn't the floor.

"Hell, McKay, you know what I mean." He waved his good arm around a little, "I mean all this. The confinement. The hearing. What happened to Gall. You can't be—"

"It's fine, Major," the curt tone was back. "It is what it is." Suddenly, he was on his feet, "You should go now. You need rest."

"McKay…."

But the scientist was already at the door, opening it to talk to the marine. Sheppard gritted his teeth at the information that Lieutenant Ford would be there "any minute."

"McKay!"

Rodney looked back at him when he shouted, then turned away, returning to his desk. When he sat down, he didn't look at the Major; he just stared at the wall over his desk. The picture of calm and control…and with a jaw so tense it looked like it would shatter with one good punch.

"Rodney," Sheppard softened his tone, shifting forward on the chair he was sitting on, "listen to me. You're not fine. You couldn't possibly be—"

"Don't," Rodney whispered, the plea barely passing his lips.

Sheppard licked his lips, then shook his head, "I can't. McKay, you're a member of my team. I need to know that you're—"

"I said I'm fine, major. Look, are we done?" McKay turned back to his laptop, "Because you really shouldn't be here."

"Shouldn't be here? What does—"

"You should be resting. Besides, I have work to do." And he clicked at a few keys on the laptop as if to prove it.

"Work? McKay, come on, you—"

"Seriously, where is Ford?" McKay stared at the door. "What is taking him so long?"

"Who cares about Ford! McKay, will you just—"

"I thought marines were supposed to be punctual. Or is that the boy scouts?"

"McKay! Damn it! Stop—"

"I really don't have time for this," McKay tapped away impatiently at the keys. "If Ford would just get here already…."

"DAMN IT, McKay, stop cutting me off!" Sheppard shouted, his face bright red by now. "Even if Ford arrived right now, don't think I'm just—"

"Is the yelling helping your headache, Major?" McKay stared right at him then, and Sheppard couldn't hide his surprise. How did he know he had a headache?

Then again, he thought as he lowered his hand from where he'd been rubbing his temple unconsciously, maybe that was a dumb question.

A polite knock on the door startled him further, and he looked up to see Ford in the doorway. The lieutenant gave a small smile, then walked in.

"Oh thank God," McKay muttered, slumping again. Sheppard glared at him.

"Hey Major," Ford greeted his superior, "I heard you might need a hand getting back to your room."

Sheppard frowned at him, "Thanks, lieutenant, but I don't need any help."

"Yes he does," McKay stated unequivocally. "Don't let him push you away, lieutenant." The scientist turned, focusing back on his laptop so that he wouldn't have to look at any one anymore. "He needs rest. He passed out in my chair, there. Besides, he's getting in my way and he doesn't seem capable of leaving on his own."

Ford arched an eyebrow at the major, but Sheppard was staring at McKay's bowed back. After a moment, he closed his eyes in resignation, and stood up. He must have swayed and tripped a little, because suddenly Ford's hand was under his arm.

McKay had glanced at them over his shoulder when he heard the major misstep, saw that Ford had things under control, and looked away again. But for a split second, the scared man had shown through, all his fear and worry transparent on his face, before being abruptly covered up, hidden behind the mask of arrogance and disinterest.

At that realization, Sheppard shook, not with cold, but with anger. McKay was in nine kinds of pain, and no one seemed to see it but him.

"There's not going to be a hearing, you hear me?" he declared forcefully, his right hand gripping in a fist, ignoring the way McKay suddenly flinched. "I won't let you go through that. Ford," the major stood ram-rod straight, turning to the door, "I'm not heading to my room, so you can take off. I've going to see Weir."

"No!" McKay's shout was almost as forceful as the major's. Sheppard and Ford both turned to look at where the scientist had jumped to his feet, his own hands gripped into fists. "It's not your decision! I want that hearing. I need people to hear what happened. I won't let you take it away from me."

Ford looked stunned, but it was the major who was the most confused.

"What?" Sheppard gasped. "Are you kidding? You want the hearing?"

"Yes!"

"You can't mean that."

McKay snorted, a mocking smile on his face, "Oh?"

"Because if you do, you're insane."

McKay's eyes narrowed, all pretension gone, "Get out."

Sheppard ignored him, "Jesus Christ, McKay, do you not get what's going on here? You're under house arrest! For what? You didn't do anything wrong! You don't deserve this!"

"How do you know!" McKay shot back, "You weren't there! You didn't…." he shut his eyes suddenly, trailing off, aware he was visibly shaking. After a moment, he calmed down enough to turn around, facing away from them. "Ford," he hissed through obviously clenched teeth, "please…take him out of here."

"Take me out of here?" Sheppard's eyes narrowed, glaring at the man's back. "I'm not some pet, McKay. You can't just—"

"Sir?" Ford tugged on his arm, "perhaps we should just—"

"No! Let go of my arm lieutenant. I'm not done here. McKay! Damn it, turn around and look at me!"

"Get him out of here!" Rodney spat, still not turning around. "Ford, please!"

"Sir!" Ford pulled a little more insistently on Sheppard's arm.

The major's jaw was dropped, still not comprehending what was happening.

"McKay? McKay, come on, you can't be serious about—"

"OUT!" McKay turned, and a hand jabbed out, pointing to the door. "GET HIM OUT OF HERE!"

Ford physically cringed at the shout, grabbing tighter at the major's arm, even though his wide eyes were watching McKay, perhaps really seeing him for the first time since the planet. And still Sheppard still didn't budge, the major holding up a hand placatingly….

"McKay, look, just…just stop and think about this for a mo—"

"What the hell do you think I've been doing?" McKay snarled, his voice shaking, his cheeks flushed with anger. "It's all I _can_ do! Just sit here, trapped in this room, with my god damned thoughts! Thinking and thinking and thinking! I want this over, do you understand? I want it OVER!" The pain in Rodney's face was so plain now as to be almost overwhelming, "I want this done with, can't you see that? And I want you to leave. NOW!"

"Let's go sir." This time, Ford grabbed the major's arm in a real grip, and pulled, causing Sheppard to stumble, but it got him moving.

Rodney fell back down into his chair, leaning forward and covering his face with his hands.

And Sheppard let Ford pull him out of the room, the door sliding shut behind them.

The major shook himself out of the grip as soon as he could, and Ford backed off. The younger man actually had the good sense to look embarrassed. The major strode off, and Ford followed. Once they were out of earshot of McKay's room and the marine guarding it, Ford spoke up again.

"Look, sir, I'm sorry about all this, but—"

Sheppard stopped and spun around, nailing Ford with a glare that could have stripped the paint of a car. "Hell yes, you're sorry, lieutenant. Do you understand now what I was trying to tell you back on the jumper? He doesn't need a hearing; he needs help! And all we can do is lock him up and let him go crazy on his own. So, well done, lieutenant. Very well done. I'm sure we'll all thank you when this is over." He stepped forward, and Ford actually ducked his head, turning his head away. "Do me a favor, Ford. Think about exactly what you set in motion back on that planet, then, when you can see what exactly you did wrong, you come see me. Okay?"

Ford lifted his head to stare at the major, wide eyed. After a moment, he nodded, "Yes sir."

"Good."

And with that, the major turned and headed to his room, leaving the lieutenant in the hallway, still staring at the floor.

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TBC


	4. Part Four

**AFTERMATH -- PART FOUR**

A/N – thank you for all the great reviews!

A/N 2 – I call this the Ford chapter. I almost didn't include it, because it's so heavy CCC, but what the heck!

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CHAPTER SEVEN: KNOCKING DOWN BARRIERS

Sheppard fell on his bed, his mind still buzzing and his arm and ribs aching. He wasn't sure when he finally succumbed to unconsciousness, but he must have lit out for a while, as the sunlight streaming in through the window in his room was completely gone when he awoke.

Someone was buzzing at his door.

"Yeah," he mumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

The door opened with a soft noise, and Beckett walked in, followed by Ford.

"Just coming to check on you," the doctor said, reaching the bed and helping the major sit up. Sheppard let him—his ribs felt like they were made of porcelain. Beckett smiled, "And to bring you your meds." He opened up Sheppard's palm and dropped a couple of pills into it. Ford magically handed him a glass of water as well. He must have really been out of it, Sheppard mused. He took the pills, hoping they worked fast, drank the water, then blinked up at the two of them. Beckett reached down to take his hand, fingering his pulse.

"What's happening?" he croaked as Beckett continued to look him over.

"Hearing's tomorrow morning at ten," Ford informed him. "McKay asked that it be completely open. Weir argued with him for a long time, trying to explain it was supposed to be informal, just her, Bates and Doctor Travis and us, but McKay came armed with the expedition guidelines and….Anyway, she finally said okay…but only if he agreed to talk to the shrink first."

"Shrink?" Sheppard grimaced as Beckett took his other arm and started unwrapping the bandage.

"Heightmeyer. Not that it'll do much good. He blew her off when we first got home," Ford shrugged, "when you were still asleep."

"He just talks rings around her," Beckett added wryly, replacing the dressing and ignoring the hiss of pain from Sheppard. "She's not blind obviously, but McKay…well, that arrogant tone of his covers up a lot now, doesn't it. How are the ribs feeling?"

"He's such a pig-headed…Huh? What did you ask me?" Sheppard was still mulling over McKay's reticence about talking to a psychiatrist.

"Ribs? How do they feel?"

"Oh, stiff, sore and really, really obviously there, but no sharp pains, if that's what your asking."

"It is," Beckett nodded. "Good."

"Anyway, we're all expected to talk," Ford said, drawing the conversation back. "Everyone who was there. On the planet, I mean."

Sheppard grunted, not happy at the news. Beckett sighed and stood back up, eyeballing the major one more time then looking over at the hovering lieutenant. After a brief awkward pause, the doctor smiled at them.

"Anyway," he said, with forced cheer, "I'll leave you two. See you later." And, just as suddenly as he had appeared, Beckett was gone, leaving Ford with Sheppard.

The major finished off the water in his glass, and blinked up owlishly at the younger man.

Ford was staring at his feet. He was obviously waiting for something.

Sheppard sighed, "Go on, then, sit down."

The lieutenant turned, and plunked down in the only chair in the room. He immediately leaned forward, his eyes still on the floor.

Sheppard shifted to rest his back against his headboard, and proceeded to let the other man choose the pace. The lieutenant sighed.

"Look I," Ford frowned, "I think…."

Sheppard didn't make a noise, he just waited.

The lieutenant licked his lips, glanced up at the major, then looked down again.

"I made a mistake."

"Yes," Sheppard nodded, "you did."

"Doctor McKay didn't have anything to do with Gall's death."

Sheppard arched an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

Ford looked up at that, saw the raised eyebrow on the major's face, then looked down again.

"See I…I was brought up…believing that suicide was a sin, major. That there was no excuse for taking your own life. God chooses when you die, not you. To kill yourself is practically one of the worst things you can do." He rubbed at his right leg unconsciously, then gripped his right hand into a fist. "And so…I got angry, when I saw…that Gall had taken his own life. I didn't…I didn't want to believe it. I," he licked his lips again, his eyes narrowing a little, his right hand opening and closing a few times, "thought that…that McKay should have tried harder to stop him. I didn't know until you told me that you had ordered McKay to give him the gun. I thought, maybe, that the doctor….I mean, you know what they're like in Canada. They…don't believe in things like we do. They…."

"They think exactly like we do, Ford. They don't have euthanasia, if that's what you're thinking."

"Yeah but…Doctor McKay…I mean, he…he seems like one of those…you know….He's not exactly...And…if Gall…what if McKay helped? And so, I wasn't sure….I mean, I thought, what if he gave him the gun, knowing what Gall would do with it?" Ford looked up at the major, his eyes bright. "But I was wrong. Dead wrong. I know he didn't have anything to do with it now. Seeing him before, in his room…anyway I know now. And maybe, what you were trying to tell me is…that I should have known then. And you'd be right."

Sheppard just stared back. Waiting. He still didn't say a thing.

Ford stared at the floor. "How _did_ you know?"

Sheppard shrugged, "Well, for one thing, because he said so."

Ford frowned, obviously not expecting that, "What? When?"

"In the jumper."

The lieutenant was clearly confused, "He told you in…?"

"No Ford. He told you."

Ford seemed taken aback by that, and he looked down, obviously puzzled.

The major sighed, "But, even if he hadn't said anything, I knew anyway."

Ford grimaced at that, looking up again. "You did? How?"

Sheppard's eyes narrowed, "You tell me."

Ford shook his head, the motion nervous. "I don't understand."

"You should have known he didn't have a hand in Gall's death, for the same reason that I know and Teyla knows that he didn't."

Ford looked pained now, with the mention of Teyla. "But…how do you know?"

"Because I know McKay. I'm not saying that he absolutely wouldn't…do something like that…if the circumstances were such that he had absolutely no choice--if other people's lives depended on it or the person asking was in unrelenting pain and there was absolutely no hope left….then maybe, but even then, I seriously doubt it. He doesn't think that way. Most people don't, until the situation is so extreme as to be utterly hopeless…."

"Hopeless?" Ford frowned a little, "But, sir, how can anyone know when there is no hope left?"

Sheppard stared at him, his face so still, it really began to frighten the younger man. Ford's brow furrowed.

"Surely, sir, there is always…."

"I shot Colonel Sumner, Ford."

The major's announcement was ice cold, and Ford's eyes widened a little. "What?"

"You heard me lieutenant. I killed him, before the Wraith could completely desiccate him."

Ford's eyes stayed big, and he looked down at the floor again.

"I had to make a decision, Ford. He was dying, and the pain that thing was causing him…the Wraith was taking more than just his life, she was reading his mind. Sumner looked right at me…and nodded, asking me to kill him before she finished him off. That was situation where there was no hope and no choice. But Gall wasn't at that point yet, and McKay knew it. He would never have helped Gall die. Gall made that decision on his own. He didn't _consult _McKay." Sheppard stressed the word, watching Ford carefully, and saw realization finally dawn.

"_He didn't consult me_," Ford whispered under his breath, finally remembering McKay's response in the jumper. The meaning finally sunk in.

"You should have at least listened, lieutenant. Had you listened, you would have known, even if you didn't know already."

Ford lowered his head again. "Yeah. I guess I need to—"

"But that wasn't what I was angry about, lieutenant. That's not what I meant when I told you to think about what you set in motion."

Ford frowned, looking up, eyes confused.

Sheppard's expression was deceptively calm, "Ford, whether or not McKay had a hand in Gall's suicide isn't important. That is," he waved a hand, "it's important now, when people are trying to put things together, but on that planet, your top priority should have been making sure your teammates were all right and getting us home, in one piece. Two people were dead, I was…." he waved his hand again, "and McKay was a basket case because of Gall. I admit, I didn't see it immediately either, not until I woke up again. But Ford, while I was down, you were the leader. How you act, what you say, and what you do in such a situation is incredibly important. Your teammates…all of them…needed your guidance, your support, and your help. Things had obviously gone horribly wrong, and yet, instead of objectively providing leadership, all you did was accuse McKay without listening to him or even seeing him, driving him inward, and both Markham and Johnson came back with the impression you had given them, spreading it to others, and leading to the situation we are in now. You let someone else's pre-conceived notions about suicide color your judgment, and you can't do that in the field. McKay's your teammate. You are going to be relying on him, trusting him, expecting him to trust you and rely on you in return. Do you think he can trust you now? Knowing that you would do something like that to him? Knowing that you would put your friends and teammates second, and put your disgust over Gall's suicide first?"

Ford's eyes shut.

Sheppard sighed, and shook his head, "Look…Ford, I don't mean to be harsh, but…just think about it. You'll get it."

The lieutenant imitated the sigh, then nodded, "Yes sir."

The major watched him for a moment, letting the silence stretch for a few moments. Ford's hand untwisted from the grip it was in, and the boy's shoulders fell. Finally, he shook his head.

"I get it."

"Yeah?" Sheppard tilted his head.

"Yeah." Ford covered his head with his hands, then rubbed harshly at his thick hair before letting his hands fall back to his lap. He glanced up at the major, and grimaced. "I'm an idiot."

Sheppard smiled lightly at that. "No, not really. Just young. Gotta lot to learn. Hell, believe me, I know. I screw up all the time, as you know, and I've got a good dozen years on you. And McKay doesn't make it easy. Just…remember to try taking a step back a little next time."

Ford didn't bother to fight that—in this case, the major was right. So, he just nodded.

Sheppard's smile grew. "Hey."

Ford looked up.

"What's for dinner."

Ford's face screwed up, "Rubber pizza."

The Major's smile grew, "Sounds delicious. Wanna help me to the mess?"

Ford's smile was weak, but it was there. Standing, he went and held a hand out to the major. Sheppard took it gratefully. Age meant experience, sure…but it was also a real pain in the ass.

———————————————————

TBC


	5. Part Five

THE AFTERMATH – PART FIVE

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CHAPTER EIGHT: THE HEARING

It was Teyla who came to fetch the major the next morning, to bring him to the hearing. He felt worn down still, but it didn't show on his face as the transporter doors opened to reveal the large, sunlit mess hall. He was there for Rodney, not the other way around.

Sheppard paused a minute as they arrived, taking in the large, open room. It looked very different from the one where they ate everyday--and he did not like the transformation.

Ten chairs had been placed in rows about ten chairs deep, in two sections divided by a corridor. Just about all the chairs were filled, but there were also empty ones, especially near the front. A number of people had opted to stand in the back instead, leaning against the walls, whispering. People were in clumps—engineers, biologists, physicians, chemists, physicists, marines, air force—and they all waited, expectant, staring towards the glass partition on the raised platform in the middle of the room, where Weir was standing.

She was talking to Bates, Dr. Heightmeyer, and an auburn hairedengineer Sheppard didn't know very well. Travis, was the man's name, and he apparently had some legal background. He had been appointed long before they arrived here to sit in on any proceeding like this. He was currently gazing around the room as Weir spoke with all of them, with a sharpness of gaze that made Sheppard uncomfortable. It reminded him a little of that actor who often played counterpoint to Steve McQueen, the red haired guy…what was that actor's name again? He noticed as well that the tables had all been folded up and pushed to the side, stacked against the wall, except for three.

"Not a trial," Sheppard muttered, seeing the position of the tables still in use. "So much for that idea."

"Sorry, major?" Teyla looked at him, her eyebrows raised curiously. "What did you say?"

He grimaced, then waved towards the set up for the "hearing."

"They've set up the room like a courtroom back on earth," he explained. He pointed to where Weir was, "the head table facing the crowd is where the judge or judges sit," then he pointed to the other two tables, "and facing the judge in front of the crowd are the defendant's table and the prosecution's table." He frowned, "Not that I know why we have a prosecution's table."

"Ah, I believe that table is for us," she smiled up at him. "Doctor Weir has asked Lieutenant Ford, myself, Sergeant Markham and Corporal Johnson to all speak today, as well as yourself. To get the clearest picture of what happened."

Sheppard snorted, "Did she now."

"Yes." Her head tilted, still watching him curiously, "Is there a problem with her request?"

"And McKay sits at the other table, by himself?"

She frowned, looking again towards the room before them. Rodney was indeed sitting at a table by himself, his back straight in the chair behind it, his hands tightly clasped on the table before him. He was staring at his hands, almost as if afraid to look away at anything else.

"Ah," she nodded in comprehension, "I understand."

Sheppard gave a small smile. "What say we ruin their little seating system?" And without waiting for her reply, he stepped up the stairs to the main floor of the mess hall and walked over to Rodney's table. Grabbing a chair from the "front row" behind the scientist, he slammed it down next to Rodney and sat down.

McKay couldn't avoid a slight jump at the clatter, and stared at Sheppard with a furrowed brow. He opened his mouth to speak, but found himself dumbfounded as Teyla grabbed a chair as well and sat down on his other side. She gave him a small smile and a nod, before turning her gaze to the front.

"Um…." He looked at a loss for words, turning back to the major. Sheppard just glanced at him, arched a playful eyebrow, and settled back. Rodney focused back on his hands, though his brow was still furrowed.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth had seen Sheppard's little act, and she met his eyes dispassionately. After a moment, she simply nodded and looked around, checking to see that everyone was here. Sheppard followed her gaze. He saw Ford first, standing off to one side, looking uncomfortable, his hands behind his back. The lieutenant was gazing at the three of them with something akin to longing. He found Markham and Johnson next, the two men disengaging themselves from conversations they were having in the "crowd," and moving forward to sit at the other table.

The room sensed the mood change, and quieted.

Elizabeth's jaw muscles flexed, but, with one more whispered word to Dr. Heightmeyer—the two appeared to have been arguing--she pivoted to face the room. Heightmeyer took a deep breath, turned and stepped away, moving over to where Doctor Beckett stood.

"Welcome," Elizabeth greeted. "I would first like to point out that this is an informal hearing. This is not, in any sense, a trial, a formal hearing or any other similar kind of proceeding. We are not here to judge anyone, or to attack or punish anyone. This hearing is for information only, and, while, at Dr. McKay's request, I have permitted this attendance, I will not stand for any kind of interruption or discussion. Only those requested to speak may do so." She paused, letting that sink into the room for a moment before continuing.

"Now, as you know, we were provided strict guidelines regarding how to proceed with any investigation into questionable circumstances concerning expedition members. Should anything be discovered here which would warrant a formal review, then we will proceed as the guidelines have laid out. However, we are not at that stage. And, to that end," she gazed slowly around the room, meeting a number of eyes, including a few of those younger members of the scientific team she knew to be Doctor Gall's friends, "I would ask that you respect the intent of this session and respect that we will do what is right. Is that clear?"

No one in the room said a word, so she nodded. Shifting over to the table, where Travis and Bates were already sitting, she sat herself down on the central chair. A few other folks in the crowd, heretofore standing, sat as well, but most stayed where they were.

"Major Sheppard," Elizabeth looked directly at the major, who raised his eyebrows in return, "If you would, I believe it's best we hear your tale of events first. Then I'd like to hear from Teyla, Corporal Johnson, Sergeant Markham and Lieutenant Ford. And finally," she shifted to her gaze to Rodney, who's eyes were still downcast, "Doctor McKay."

When Rodney failed to acknowledge her,herjaw muscles flexeda little, the only sign that he was scaring her.Steeling herself,shereturned her eyes to John, and he nodded at her, standing up.

Slowlybut surely,the major proceeded to describe everything that he could remember, even the many different encounters with the glowy bugs.He placed the greatest emphasis, though, on his ordering McKay over the radio to give Gall the gun, andon McKay's appearance at the end, painting a heroic picture of the scientist, not noticing the way McKay slumped even more at the description.It took him close to fifteen minutes to completehis tale, and, when he was finally done, ending with the arrival of Ford and his team,his ribs hurt unmercifully and the pile driver had resumed its attack on his right temple. When Weir nodded at him to sit down, he did so gratefully, blowing the air out of his cheeks and closing his eyes. He didn't see the worried glance McKay gave him, or the concern Beckett was showing from the other side of the room.

Teyla stood next, describing the long flight, and the desperate attempts to contact the people on the planet as soon as they could. Like the Major, she was detailed and descriptive. After her, both Johnson and Markham filled in what she had missed, which wasn't much. Ford stood last, going into more detail about what happened on the planet after their arrival, including retrieving the bodies and finding McKay working swiftly to repair the puddle jumper while the major was fast asleep on the floor. McKay had wrapped Sheppard's arm and had obviously done what he could to keep the major comfortable. When the young man was finished speaking, he stepped back into the half-shadows he'd been standing in. His voice was quiet, reserved. It was not lost on the crowd, who had to strain to hear him.

Elizabeth thanked him, then turned, green eyes focusing on McKay.

"Doctor?"

McKay looked up, almost startled. His fingers were still tightly clasped, to the point where the fingers had turned white. He released the death grip they were in and pulled them back off the table.

"My turn?" he asked, obviously not totally with it.

Weir smiled softly, and nodded, "Yes."

"Oh, okay." He pushed the chair back away from the table and stood, rubbing his hands on his thighs. Standing up as straight as he could, he looked around at the room, then back to Weir.

"First of all," McKay said, "the Major has not told you the whole truth."

Immediately, there was increased whispering behind him, but he plunged on regardless, almost as if to drown them out.

"When I finally showed up at the end, I…I did nothing to help the major. I tried to, shot every bullet I had, but the Wraith barely felt it. It just kept coming and coming, heading towards me now instead of the major…" he grimaced, "I presume because I was healthier." He closed his eyes, swallowing convulsively, "I was basically useless. All I did was distract it for a moment and maybe piss it off more. Like shooting…a 9MM at a grizzly. I…."

"That distraction," Sheppard interrupted, glaring at the doctor, "was what saved my life McKay. If you hadn't come when you did—"

"Oh, sure," McKay said dismissively, "I won you a few more minutes, but if you hadn't attracted the glow bugs and Ford hadn't…."

"Gentlemen," Weir snapped, "Please. Major, please refrain from speaking to Doctor McKay directly. Rodney? You were saying?"

McKay stared at her, looking somewhat taken aback by her officious tone, while Sheppard's expression just darkened. She ignored both. McKay gripped his hands into fists as he tried to get back his train of thought.

"Uh…I was…what I was trying to say was….Nothing I did meant anything…. The major's story isn't an accurate—"

"On the contrary, it is Doctor McKay's perspective which is skewed," Ford announced loudly, stepping forward from the half shadows he'd been standing in. "Doctor Weir, his description does not match the facts."

McKay flinched, and Weir's eyebrows lifted.

"Skewed?" Rodney challenged, frowning at the young man, "How would you know? You weren't—"

"I didn't need to be. Doctor Weir, may I?" Ford didn't look at McKay, waiting patiently for Elizabeth to acknowledge him. Her jaw flexed, seeing the tension in Rodney's face, then nodded.

"Is it actual factual evidence?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Then go ahead."

Rodney's jaw fell open, but Ford simply stepped forward more.

"Doctor McKay saved the major's life—we saw that clearly from the jumper's monitor. Doctor McKay stood his ground, even as the Wraith approached him. We heard the fire clearly over the comm. as he did everything he could to distract the Wraith, including putting himself at risk, in an attempt to help the major. He gave both of them enough time for my team to fire upon the Wraith. There is no question in my mind that Doctor McKay acted bravely and without concern for his own well being, and should be commended for those acts, just as the major has described. And if you don't believe me, simply call up the ship's records and see for yourself. He never moved, even when he ran out of bullets, even as the Wraith closed in on him."

His voice rang through the room, much louder than the young man's previous tone. Even McKay was staring at him with open surprise, amazed to hear such conviction…and conviction in his favor.

Elizabeth's eyebrows lifted, "Well, that is new information, lieutenant," she noted. "And of a tone quite different from the one you used when you first debriefed me after the mission."

"That's because I had blinders on then, ma'am," Ford replied firmly. "I've removed them now."

Again her eyebrows lifted, "Are you sure, lieutenant? Are you sure that the passage of time has not swayed or influenced you to think—"

"No, ma'am. I have gone over the events again in my mind, and things that should have been obvious to me at the time were glossed over in my shock at discovering Doctor Gall. And I also realize that I have a lot to make up for."

He said the last words to Weir, but then turned to look directly at where McKay was standing. "I'm sorry, doc. It won't happen again. I promise you that."

The doctor just stared at him, clearly not sure what to think.

Next to him, however, Sheppard smiled again, feeling much better all of a sudden, and Teyla stood up, grabbed another chair from the row behind them, and placed it next to hers. Ford finally smiled back, and walked over to take it. McKay watched him the whole time, but didn't object or complain, he just let it happen.

The whole room watched their actions, not entirely sure what to make of it all. But Sheppard was still smiling, looking extremely pleased, and, had she allowed herself to, Elizabeth would have grinned as well.

McKay turned his gaze to stare down at the table in front of him, his right hand twitching again, his expression more puzzled than ever.

Elizabeth nodded, "Well, thank you, Lieutenant. I presume the other members of your team can confirm what you just told me?"

"Yes," Teyla affirmed loudly. Over on the other table, both Johnson and Markham nodded their heads.

"Well, good. So," Elizabeth looked back to Rodney, "then that just leaves…."

"What happened inside the Wraith ship," the doctor finished softly. Elizabeth nodded.

McKay closed his eyes. Around him, everyone waited silently, no one wanting to miss a single word.

———————————————————

TBC


	6. Part Six

**AFTERMATH — PART SIX**

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CHAPTER NINE: FINAL ACTS

"….He kept telling me over and over to leave him," McKay said, visibly shaking now. His voice cracked on every other word, his eyes staring fixedly at a point somewhere between himself and the table holding Weir, Bates and Travis. He'd been speaking for about fifteen minutes, describing everything with terrible detail—the way he massaged Gall's hands and feet and let Gall see his aged face in the mirror (that had gotten a lot of people muttering in the crowd); the way he listened and waited for Sheppard to call for him and how he kept alert, constantly, in case there were more Wraith in the ship still alive; everything he said to Gall…everything he tried to say….

Everyone was listening, hanging on every word. If someone coughed, they got dirty looks, and lord help anyone who shifted and made a chair creak.

"Finally," McKay said the word with a sort of ugliness, "I thought I heard a noise. I couldn't tell if it was another explosion—though from what the major described, I guess it was the second grenade going off—or something inside the ship, and I turned away. I don't remember what I was saying, what I was trying to convince myself into doing or not doing….And Gall was talking to me. I wasn't really listening anymore. I knew what he was saying. He told me…he told me to go. Again. Save the day, he said. Ha!" McKay spat the word out, lifting his eyes to look at Weir, "as if I could!" The eyes drifted down again, "But he knew I wouldn't leave him. Knew I wouldn't…even if Sheppard was in trouble, I couldn't….I don't know. I was babbling. I was scared, understand?" He looked up at Weir again, then at Bates uncompromising gaze, and quickly looked down again. Bates never looked scared. Probably didn't know the meaning of the word. "And then…then…without any…kind of…warning….He…he…."

His jaw froze, and the rest of him followed. It was a like a hiccup. He stood frozen, and the room froze with him, as if someone had stopped the clocks and interrupted the passage of time.

But McKay wasn't in that room anymore. He was back on that ship, standing there again, just as Gall raised the gun to his head. The horrendously loud gunshot echoed in his ears, bouncing off the dark, dead walls of the Wraith ship, ringing to the point of deafening. The smell of blood and brimstone assaulted his nostrils as the warm gun smoke tingled across his bare arms, the overheated air amplifying the sensations. He turned, and saw Gall lying there, his head turned with the impact, black powder burns down the side of his face. He saw what he had done. He saw it all as if it were happening all over again.

"Oh God," he whispered, leaning forward a little, almost as if he would fall. Sheppard sat up straighter, ignoring his own aches as he saw his friend sway.

"Doctor McKay?" Teyla asked softly, reaching a hand over to touch the blue sleeve.

"Doctor McKay?" Elizabeth said more loudly.

McKay looked up, his eyes focusing on Weir's face. Her expression was somewhere between concern and understanding, and he let it wash over him.

"And then Brendan shot himself," McKay finished, not taking his eyes off of Elizabeth's soft gaze. "I wasn't even looking at him when he did it. I was…looking around the corner. I just…I had no idea, hadn't even considered that he could…that he would…and now I…I keep seeing his face, turned away from me, black blood, skin and bits of bone on the side of…." his hand shook, lifting to his right temple. "I keep hearing that horrific gunshot in my head, keep smelling the powder on the air…and the…the blood. It smells so rotten. And his face…the whole side of his face…."

"It's all right," Teyla was on her feet, her hand pressing down more on his arm. McKay looked down, saw the touch he hadn't even felt. He looked at her, his eyes filled with tears.

"I didn't know," he finished weakly. Teyla nodded back once, conveying as much understanding in her gaze as she could.

Weir looked down at the table in front of her, then to her left where Heightmeyer was standing over by the wall near Beckett. The psychiatrist gave her a small nod as if to say, "see, I told you so." Weir frowned and looked back at Rodney.

"Well," Elizabeth said, shifting the papers she'd been taking notes on, and placing the paperweight she'd brought with her (just in case she needed an impromptu "gavel") on top of them, "Thank you, Doctor McKay. I think we've heard all we need to. We have a good idea what happened after that, so—"

"Wait a minute!" a voice yelled sharply from the crowd. "If he was so…distraught…how did he get out to help Sheppard?"

"I'm sorry?" Weir looked out at the crowd. "Who said that?"

"I did." A woman stood, young, fairly pretty. She was an engineer like Gall, and was one of his friends, Elizabeth recalled. She had her chin lifted high, but there was pain in her eyes. This whole thing had obviously affected her deeply.

"I," McKay swallowed, turning to face her, "I…."

"Rodney," Elizabeth stood, "You do not have to answer if you do not want to." She glared at the young woman, "I told everyone specifically that I would not accept interruptions. If you have concerns you should—"

"He's here now, and I want to know the answer," the woman said. "I want to know how you could just leave Brendan. Like that. After what he'd done."

"I repeat," Elizabeth rested her hand on the paperweight, "I will not—"

"I didn't just leave him," McKay croaked, facing the girl. "I tried…I tried to…Obviously he was dead. There was nothing I could…so I…so I…," McKay's eyes narrowed. "I hadn't heard from Sheppard in so long, and I…I was worried…that he…and so I just ran."

"Ran away, you mean," the girl said, not nicely. "You ran away. Didn't you? Because you failed to help Brendan. Isn't that it?"

McKay swallowed, and nodded. "Yes," he admitted weakly, feeling strangely lightheaded. He blinked to try and clear the whitish haze at the edges of his vision, wondering a little at what was causing it.

"But he also ran to something," Sheppard turned in his seat. "He ran to help me."

Brendan's friend looked at the major, then turned away, her eyes crinkling up with tears. Someone next to her coaxed her back into her seat.

"I'm sorry," McKay said, still watching the young woman behind him, shivering a little as he thought he smelled the gunpowder on the air again. "I'm so sorry."

"Yes," Elizabeth was still standing, "Rodney, I think we understand--"

"No, Elizabeth," McKay looked back, "she's right. I should have done more. I should have seen it coming. I should have never given him that gun. I—"

"Doctor McKay," Weir shook her head at him, "it sounds to me like you did everything you could."

"No, no, you're wrong," McKay was staring at her, his eyes locked on hers, though he didn't appear to actually see her anymore. "I didn't. He shouldn't be dead. It shouldn't have happened at all. Had I just been paying more attention…."

"Stop it, McKay," Sheppard reached a hand over, but McKay shook him off. Teyla was still standing, but she made no move to touch the agitated man, watching the sweat roll down the side of his face.

"I was wrong, in so many ways," McKay sounded like he was pleading for something, but Elizabeth didn't know for what...or to whom. "It's all my fault. I should have thought of something else, some other way to save him." He was shaking so hard now, even the people in the back could see it. He staggered forward a step as his balance betrayed him for a moment, and caught his hand on the edge of the table. He didn't seem aware of himself anymore as he kept on talking, the hand not bracing him lifting towards Elizabeth, almost in supplication. "If I hadn't been so desperate to go help Sheppard. If I hadn't let him see his face in the mirror. If I'd just listened to him better….Heard what he was saying to me…."

"Doctor McKay," Elizabeth lowered her head, staring at him plainly, "You can't foresee every eventuality. Believe me, I know."

But McKay wasn't listening anymore, the gun smoke was too thick, the smell of blood too strong, the gunshot too loud...

"No…you weren't there…you didn't…he…he…." He trailed off, and, suddenly, he listed forward, barely catching himself on the table as he collapsed—the lack of food over the last two days, the confinement and the stress finally breaking him. All three, Ford, Teyla and Sheppard, were on their feet trying to catch him. Sheppard groaned in his throat as his ribs caught, and backed off when he saw Ford and Teyla had Rodney well in hand, the major sitting down gingerly even as he kept an eye on his team. With incredible gentleness, Ford and Teyla sat the pale scientist back down, Ford rubbing his back as he crouched down next to him, listening as Rodney still muttered about what he "should have done." Teyla stood back up, her hand on Rodney's shoulder, and she looked around at the crowd. Her expression was grim.

"I think that's enough," Weir said, finding herself on her feet without even realizing it. She'd jumped up herself when Rodney fell forward, and, when she looked around the room, she saw Beckett had moved forward several feet, and so had several others, including Zelenka and Grodin. Rodney sat very still now, staring at nothing but floor, his eyes wet but not actually tearing. Ford finally stood up from his crouched position next to Rodney's chair, to look up at Weir, and Sheppard moved his chair closer to McKay. Around them, the room shifted and bubbled and ruminated, as whispers and mutterings grew to fill the suddenly still air. Elizabeth grimaced at the change in atmosphere, not liking the tone.

"Well," she took in a deep breath, "obviously, we have heard a great deal today, and I think enough to make a determination as to—"

"Doctor Weir?" Teyla's steady, calm voice rang through the hall, overriding the ripples of tension that seemed to be reaching a boiling point. Several people gave her a menacing look, as they would an outsider intruding on their dark entertainment, but she ignored them. She looked only to Elizabeth, eyes clear and straightforward, no fear in her at all.

"Yes?" Elizabeth sighed. "What is it Teyla?"

"May I say something else?"

"About the mission?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

Weir stared at her for a moment, gauging the crowd, then nodded, sitting down again. "All right, if you think it's relevant."

"It is," Teyla affirmed, walking forward around the table and placing her hands behind her back. "I believe a rather important fact has been omitted from this hearing, a point of view we have not yet heard from." She looked at Weir, then over her shoulder at McKay and Sheppard, then around at the rest of the room. "I believe we have not heard from Doctor Gall."

Immediately, the room erupted in anger, as the same people who had glared at her earlier erupted from their chairs, ignoring Weir as she slammed the paperweight down on her desk, and ignoring the completely unruffled look Teyla gave them in response. Suddenly, a single shot fired into the air quieted the room.

Lieutenant Ford put his gun down, holstering it. "I believe Teyla has the floor," he stated gruffly.

"But she's crazy!" someone shouted. "She thinks a dead man can talk!"

"No," Teyla focused on the man, another young scientist who looked to be about the same age as Doctor Gall, "I do not mean that he is here to speak for himself. I mean, we have not considered why he did what he did."

"Did what he did?" the man yelled back. "He was dying a slow death, and McKay's right, he should have…."

"Enough!" Weir slammed the paperweight down again. "Dr. Ridderov, if you will not respect the rules I laid down for this hearing, you will be removed. Do you understand?"

The scientist in question huffed, literally huffed, and crossed his arms over a fairly broad chest. He met Elizabeth's stare for a moment, then closed his eyes and sat back down. He bent forward a little when he did, and the person sitting next to him placed a light hand on his shoulder.

Sighing deeply, Elizabeth turned back to Teyla. "As you were saying?"

The Athosian nodded back, then turned to look around at the room. She took a deep breath, clasped her hands together in front of her and lowered her head a little.

"I realize," she began, "that I am not one of your people. We have different cultures, different beliefs, different," she looked up a little, at the grand ceiling, "backgrounds…." Her eyes returned to the people watching her, "but for all that, I do not believe that, fundamentally, we think differently." She paused again, unclasping her hands, "To my people, suicide is also an ugly act. But the main reason we feel so strongly against it is because, ultimately, it is a selfish act for selfish reasons. A person who commits suicide does so because they are in pain, because they can no longer bear living any longer. Whether you believe it is cowardice or some other weakness that drives a person to take their own life, it is nonetheless a very personal, introverted decision to make. Many times they are not thinking about what their death will do to their loved ones, or how it might affect those who are with them, or even those who find them." She lowered her eyes again, then raised them, to look directly at Doctor McKay, "But I do not believe that Doctor Gall was acting selfishly."

Many lowered heads lifted, including McKay's, their attention now completely on the Athosian woman. Teyla gave the shattered man a light smile.

"I have listened to your story, Doctor McKay, and to that of Major Sheppard, and I also know what I saw when I arrived on that planet." She looked away, up to Doctor Weir behind her table, meeting the older woman's curious gaze. "Doctor Gall was aware that Doctor McKay would not leave him. He knew that Major Sheppard was in trouble, knew that, if the Major failed to defeat the Wraith, that, as Doctor McKay so succinctly put it, they would be in real trouble." She shook her head, "Doctor Gall took his life, not because he wanted to die, not because he had given up on his own life," she paused, taken a deep breath, "but because he was trying to save the lives of Doctor McKay and Major Sheppard." Her chin lifted, her hands now clasping behind her back. "He gave his life so Doctor McKay would be free to aid the Major, and perhaps, in fact," she smiled softly again, "save the day."

She turned, her unwavering gaze fixing on Rodney and the Major, but mostly Rodney, "And he did, did he not? If Doctor McKay had not gone to the rescue, both of you would be lost. Meaning that, in the end, then, it was really Doctor Gall who saved the day—he made if possible for the two of you to defeat the Wraith…together."

Rodney was sitting up fully now, his eyes completely open, staring at Teyla in a sort of dumbfounded way. Sheppard had a crooked smile on his face, probably not even noticing that he had a hand resting on Rodney's back. There was gratitude in his eyes as he smiled more fully at the young woman.

Teyla looked back at Elizabeth, "I suppose that what I am trying to say, Doctor Weir, is that Doctor Gall was not a coward. He was not acting selfishly, or acting out his own despair. He knew exactly what he was doing—he was saving his friends. And, to be most honest," her eyebrows lifted, "I think this hearing is a disservice to his memory. It dishonors Doctor Gall, dishonors his record, his contribution and his… primarily…selfless act. He died a hero, and should be remembered as one. As all of the people who have lost their lives for this expedition should be remembered." Her head lowered, and she turned to the rest of the room, "And I think many people here would probably agree." Her eyes met those of Doctor Ridderov and the female doctor from before, and smiled when they both gave her tight nods in agreement. Teyla looked back at Elizabeth, then at Bates and Travis, "And I think the three of you should as well."

A different sort of silence befell the room as she finished, one more of amazement than anything. People looked at each other, seeking something in the faces of their friends as Teyla's words settled into their consciousness... and tiny smiles started to appear.

"Um," Doctor Zelenka stood suddenly, "I, uh, know that I'm not supposed to speak, but, um," he pointed vaguely at Teyla, "I agree with Teyla."

"So do I," another voice called, a young dark haired woman in the back, standing near the still bandaged Doctor Kavanagh. He peered out of his one eye, but surprisingly gave a nod in agreement with his colleague.

"Me too," Doctor Grodin added.

"And me," Sergeant Stackhouse called, raising his crutch in the air from where he was sitting with his casted leg propped up, and a number of soldiers around the marine were nodding as well.

The room got louder then, as muted discussions and called assents grew in the wake of Teyla's speech. Elizabeth frowned, not noticing how Rodney had turned to look at the group of people behind him, still appearing dumbfounded but no longer looking as pale or as lost. Sheppard was smiling even more broadly now, gripping his friend's shoulder, while Teyla had turned to look at Ford. The young lieutenant smiled back at her and gave her a nod.

"Okay," Elizabeth called, trying to quiet the room. "Okay!" she tried, louder this time, "Quiet please! Quiet!" She stood up and grabbed the paperweight, banging it on the table, "I said, QUIET!"

Like a shot, the room was quiet, everyone staring up at the three people still sitting at the head of the room. McKay's face fell a little, the tiny hope that Teyla had given him fading somewhat in the face of Elizabeth's stern expression.

"Thank you," she said, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. She took a deep breath, and looked at Teyla, not noticing that, to either side, Bates and Travis were looking at each other...and nodding. She smiled gently out at the room, and at Rodney, who was watching her clearly now, "I want to thank Teyla for her opinion, and to tell her that, of course, we will take it—"

"Ahem," Travis cleared his throat, interrupting her. Elizabeth frowned.

"Doctor Weir," Bates said softly. "A moment."

"Um," she looked down at the two of them, then back at the room. Everyone was watching.

Doctor Travis stood up then and whispered in her ear. Her brow furrowed, and she looked at Bates. He stood as well, and added to whatever Travis had said.

"Um, just a moment, please," she said to the room. She turned, and the three people closed ranks, Weir mostly listening as the two men spoke.

Sheppard still had his hand on Rodney's back, while Teyla returned to her seat next to the scientist. Ford stayed at McKay's back.

The room started whispering again, their impatience clear. Still, it was a different sort of impatience. The anger had somehow left the room, replaced by a sadness and a muted sense of hope.

Finally, Travis and Bates stepped away from Elizabeth, and she turned around.

When the room quieted again, she looked up.

"It appears we do not need any further discussion," she informed them quietly. "It is our decision that any further investigation into Doctor Gall's death is unnecessary. Res Ipsa Loquitor. The events speak for themselves. In addition, it is the decision of this panel that Doctor Gall receive a posthumous commendation for his actions, as will Doctor Abrams. Both men will be honored for their service to this expedition and remembered for the heroes they were. Doctor McKay," Elizabeth looked to him, sitting surrounded by his team, "you are, of course, released from house arrest and I would ask that you resume your duties as chief science officer. Your own estimable actions on the field, helping save Major Sheppard's life, will also become part of your file." She looked up at the room, ignoring the parting of McKay's lips at the news, and focusing on the rest of her expedition team. "That is our decision and it is final. I thank you for your attendance. This hearing is over."

The room erupted in conversations, as people became instantly animated at the results. McKay looked down again, even as Ford clapped him on his shoulders and Teyla smiled warmly in his direction. Sheppard groaned out loud, rubbing at his temple, and suddenly Beckett was there, talking to both him and Rodney. It was if a flood had been released from a dam, and the waters swirled around them all, alive and free; all of Atlantis was once more released to move forward again.

Utter chaos seemed to take over as Weir quietly left her place behind the table and headed towards the doors, while Bates and Travis both having wandered into the crowd. She stood alone as she reached the transporter, and looked back at her people. Dr. Ridderov was hugging the young woman who'd attacked McKay earlier, the woman's shaking shoulders showing she was clearly crying, but he also nodded at others who were standing with them, all obviously pleased with the outcome. Her gaze swept to the soldiers, who looked solemn but several gripped Bates' arm as he moved through them, in recognition and appreciation. Travis also received some claps on the back from the scientists. Zelenka even shook the quiet man's hand with vigor, grinning. Finally, her gaze rested on Rodney and the others. She stared for a few moments as Beckett shoved what looked like a glass of water into Rodney's hands and touched his brow, ignoring the obvious protests the scientist was giving him. Ford, Teyla and Sheppard all stayed very close, crowding their friend, keeping others at bay, and, in general, acted like a team again.

Thank God for that.

Heightmeyer was the only one watching her, the only other person in the vast room standing alone. The psychiatrist smiled, and Weir nodded back.

Then she left. She had commendations to write.

* * *

TBC


	7. Part Seven

A/N -- Here's the end. Just a little one. It's not really a wrap-up, more a "life goes on" thing, but...anyway, hope you like!  
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CHAPTER TEN: BACK ON THE HORSE

"Hey," Sheppard turned in the pilot's seat, looking over his shoulder at Rodney. The scientist stopped typing away on the laptop connected to the ship's systems for a moment, glancing back at him, then returned to his work. Over in the navigator's chair, Ford looked up from the book he was reading.

Teyla, Dr. Zelenka and Dr. Travis were all in the back of the puddle jumper, asleep on the floor.

15 hours was a long time.

"You busy?" Sheppard asked.

McKay's eyebrows shot up, the only sign that he was listening as he continued to type.

"I mean," the major rephrased, "can you stop what your doing, or leave it alone for a while?"

"Leave it alone?" McKay repeated, pausing again and looking at the schematics he was building. He was in the middle of creating a computer model of the ship's life support systems, for use in the future as a sort of instruction manual. He looked back at Sheppard, "Why?"

"It's been almost a month, that's why," Sheppard replied. "Time to get back on the horse."

McKay grimaced, his jaw muscles flexing. Almost a month. Had it been that long? They were headed out to the satellite again, and though his rational, stubborn, conscious mind knew he had to do this, to check out the satellite as the one most capable of interpreting its systems, his subconscious mind had been screaming at him ever since Weir posed the idea. And yet…here they were. Nine hours into the trip. And Sheppard wanted him to try flying again? Just like last time? Who the hell did the major think he was?

"I'd rather not," he replied, finally.

"If it were me," Ford suggested casually, adding his two bits, "I'd want to learn how to fly these things better."

Rodney favored him with a dark look. "I can fly one of these things just fine, lieutenant, as you may recall. I got us home and back once, did I not? When Sheppard was hanging out with Keras and the other kiddies? "

Ford shuddered, remembering it quite clearly. "Yeah. I also still remember those trees you denuded. And that poor bird—desperately flapping away, trying so hard to get out of your way…."

Sheppard laughed loudly, he couldn't help himself, then clapped a hand over his mouth and threw a worried look towards the back of the jumper. Luckily, none of the three sleeping people moved.

Rodney followed his gaze, then stood and walked to the bulkhead door. With a touch of his hand to a panel, the door separating the front from the back closed.

Sheppard's smile disappeared a little. "Will they be able to open it again from their side, if necessary?"

"Sure," Rodney shrugged. "Teyla knows where it is. Besides, Zelenka's back there, remember?"

"Oh," Sheppard pursed his lips, "right. I forgot. Glad Zelenka's with us."

Rodney nodded, returning to his seat. In a moment, he was typing again.

"McKay," Sheppard stated firmly.

McKay's fingers continued to fly.

"McKay, come on. You need the practice."

The scientist paused, and closed his eyes.

"It's too soon, major," he stated finally, speaking through clenched teeth.

"No it's not. Come on. Besides, my fingers are beginning to ache."

McKay looked back at him, "There is an auto-pilot function, you know. You just have to be in the ship—you don't have to fly it the whole time if it has a planned trajectory."

"I know," Sheppard said, looking down at the panel before him. "But I like the control."

McKay gave a tiny smile. "Because it's _your_ ship," he mocked.

"Exactly," Sheppard admitted cheerfully. "Though, to be honest, she has yet to make me as happy as my first car." He sighed, "It was a _great_ car."

"Oh?" McKay turned more fully in his chair, and Ford perked up again. "What kind of car?"

Sheppard shrugged, "I'll tell you," his eyebrows waggled, "if you take the controls."

McKay's expression fell, but not completely. Curiosity was a powerful motivator.

"All right," the scientist stood, "get out of the way."

Sheppard grinned, releasing the controls and stepping away from the pilot's chair. Ford stood up to shift to Teyla's chair, and Sheppard sat in the navigator's seat. McKay sat down gingerly in the pilot's chair, and, with a moment hesitation, took hold of the controls.

Sheppard ignored the tension filling McKay's frame, and leaned back.

"A 1968 Ford Mustang Fastback," he said. "It was even Highlander Green."

McKay's face split into a huge grin, turning to stare at the major with bright eyes, but Ford looked puzzled.

"Bullitt style?" McKay asked, almost reverently.

"Better believe it baby!" Sheppard's eyes practically sparkled, seeing the same excitement in his friend's eyes.

"Bullet Style?" Ford asked, blinking curiously at the two men. "Like a gun?"

McKay laughed, and Sheppard shook his head.

"Bullitt. B-U-L-L-I-T-T. One of the greatest movies ever made," Sheppard informed him.

"With the best car chase scene ever filmed," McKay added, his eye bright. "It set the standard. Steve McQueen in his dark green Mustang, which was all about muscle in those days, chasing a Dodge Charger through the streets of San Francisco. No chase music, no special effects, just the cars, their huge engines and McQueen's gritted teeth as he bent that wheel." He shook his head, glancing out towards the empty space outside for a moment, at the "star" he had chosen as his guide, before turning back, "Fantastic!"

"I loved that car," Sheppard sighed wistfully. "I got it used, of course, fifteen years old, but the guy who sold it to me had been 'maintaining' it. Still roared like the devil." He shook his head, "Damn fine car. I used to dream I was Steve McQueen."

"What happened to it?" Ford asked.

Sheppard grimaced, "Got crushed by a pickup at a light. I had the green. I gunned the engine. Truck ran the light in the other direction…I ended up in the hospital for three weeks. But that wasn't nearly as devastating as learning my mother had the car totaled and sent to the scrapheap. We weren't rich enough to repair it, I know, but still…." He sighed.

"Three weeks," Ford shook his head.

"The scrapheap?" McKay sighed, focused on what he felt to be the more terrible fact. "God that must have hurt."

"It did." Sheppard shook his head, then perked up, "Until I bought my next car."

McKay grinned, glancing once more out the window, adjusting the controls a little, "Can I guess?"

Sheppard grinned at him, "Go ahead."

"Um…let's see…mid-80s by now, right? Um…give me a hint, movie or TV?"

The major's smile grew wider, "TV."

"The General Lee."

"Nope. Good guess though. I would've loved having one of those."

"Corvette?"

"Nah. Too expensive. Face had a great car though—remember the white corvette?"

"With the red stripe!" McKay laughed, and Sheppard nodded. In the background, Ford just kept a light smile, vaguely catching the reference to the A-Team, but mostly just listening.

"Um…okay," Rodney moved a little in the seat, "mid 80's…stupid teenager without any money…."

"I was 20 actually."

"Same thing."

Sheppard chuckled, not looking at Ford's grimace. McKay clicked his tongue, then grinned.

"Ford Gran Torino."

"On the money!" Sheppard laughed.

"Great car!" McKay adjusted the controls again, then looked at Sheppard, "Red?"

"Of course."

"Ford Gran Torino?" Ford just looked confused.

"Starsky and Hutch?" McKay replied, glancing at him over his shoulder.

"The 70s cop show?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"He doesn't get it," McKay shared an identifying look with Sheppard. The major chuckled andpropped his hands behind his head, tilting his head at the scientist.

"So, what was your first car, McKay?"

"Well, like you," McKay adjusted the controls again, "I had no money. But," he shifted again, "I figured I could fix anything, so I went to the dump with some friends and, for a hundred bucks…." He trailed off, "Um…am I going the right way?"

Either he or Sheppard called up the map, showing that, yes, not only was he going the right way, but, amazingly, he was going in a straight line.

"Yup."

McKay's smile was huge, inordinately pleased with himself, and Ford had to laugh at that. Sheppard just nodded.

"So, first car?" Sheppard repeated, peering at the scientist.

"Oh," McKay turned the screen off and glanced back at him, "1977 Black Pontiac Trans Am."

"Smokey and the Bandit!"

"Yup!"

"Damn!"

"Thought you'd appreciate that."

"Very nice. Shame I didn't know you then. We could've raced."

"Yeah," McKay said the word, a hint of wistfulness in his voice, "maybe." He was well aware that, had he and Sheppard known each other in high school, there was next to no chance that they would have been friends.

Sheppard's grin faded a little, perhaps coming to the same realization, then came back strong. McKay was still smiling faintly, staring out the front of the jumper. The scientist's grip on the controls tightened a little. Ford felt the change in atmosphere, and glanced at the major. Sheppard met his lieutenant's gaze for a moment, then leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

"Hey," the major said.

"Yeah?" McKay replied.

"Speaking of Steve McQueen…you know that young Travis guy?"

"Um," McKay arched an eyebrow, "I should think so, since he's camped out in the back of the jumper."

"Does he remind you of that actor…the one who played the politician in Bullitt?"

McKay pursed his lips, "What…the red headed guy? With the eyes?"

"Yeah."

The scientist pursed his lips some more, then looked over his shoulder at the closed doors, then back at Sheppard, "Yeah…he does." He nodded soundly, "Just like him. Good call!"

"Who?" Ford asked.

"The Man from U.N.C.L.E. guy," McKay replied. "And he was with Steve McQueen in another movie. Played the same kind of standoffish, slightly cowardly counterpoint character to McQueen again. He was the gambler in that one, didn't come through until the end, when he got all heroic..."

"Right, right," Sheppard nodded. "Why can't I remember his—"

"Robert Vaughn?" Ford said innocently.

McKay and Sheppard both turned, shock on their faces. McKay's face broke first, busting forth a grin that Ford couldn't help returning.

"Yeah," the doctor said, "How do you know him?"

Ford shrugged, "I like westerns. Lots of guns and blowing things up. Makes me happy."

Sheppard burst out laughing, and McKay quickly joined him. They were laughing so hard, neither noticed as Ford did that they had veered off course, no longer going in a straight line.

But the lieutenant didn't say anything, enjoying the mood too much. After all, he knew they'd get back on it soon enough.

They always did.

-----------------------------------

The End

Vroom vroom!

Thanks for reading! Oh, and part of this goes to Terri, who reminded me of the first show I ever wrote a fic for--The A-Team. I also have to acknowledge NT, because she read and fixed this all first and because I wouldn't have posted anything at all without her. She blames me, but it's really all her fault (natch!). I also have huge crushes on both the young Steve McQueen and Robert Vaughn (Bullitt's one of my favorite movies as well as, ahem, the other one). I would also sell my soul for a Bullitt styled Mustang.


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